


Control

by TheMightyFlynn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blindfolds, Coming In Pants, Food Kink, Hand Feeding, Hand Jobs, Light Bondage, M/M, Power Exchange, Sensation Play, Senses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 10:45:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13856184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMightyFlynn/pseuds/TheMightyFlynn
Summary: Marcus loses a bet. Oliver takes control over what Marcus, sees, touches and tastes for one day. Both find what they were looking for, even if they didn’t know they wanted it.





	Control

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to smirkingcat for the super-fast beta! You’re a wonder! greyeyesbluetoo, I loved your prompt and just had to have it when I saw your pairing suggestions! Hope everyone likes it! :)

_Never make a bet after a few pints._

This was something Marcus Flint should have been aware of.

_Never bet against Oliver Wood when it comes to Quidditch._

This, too, was something Marcus should have been very much aware of. Actually, that one was common knowledge. With Wood’s extensive knowledge of the game and its inner workings, there was no way he would have made a bet against Caerphilly without being almost certain of the outcome. Still, Marcus had taken him up on it.

_You’re not the sharpest knife in the drawer._

That one he knew for certain. Last night had only proven it.

“You look nervous.”

Attempting to unclench his hands, Marcus sighed. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He was stood in the hallway of Wood’s London flat, staring up the stairs that led to the second floor. This wasn’t the first time he had been in Wood’s flat, but the sheer size of the place always sent a shot of envy through him. Apparently, Quidditch was a lucrative pay check.

“We’re friends, right?”

That drew Marcus’ attention back to where Wood stood in the doorway that led into the living room. Suspicion crept down his spine as Wood grinned at him.

“I’ve a feeling that could change quickly today.”

Wood’s laugh was deep and rich, almost booming through the empty flat. Marcus crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes.

“Good to know you trust me so much, Flint!” Pushing off the doorjamb, Wood moved off through the flat, making his way towards the kitchen. “Come on.”

Marcus’ skin tingled as nerves washed through him again. He was being ridiculous. Wood hadn’t tried to harm him in any way since they had re-met after the war. There was no reason for him to be so hesitant. Well, no reason other than his own stupidity, really. Wood paused with his hand on the door to the kitchen.

“I swear I won’t try to feed you worms or anything like that, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Without waiting for Marcus to answer, he stepped through the door, leaving it ajar. Caught between his own sense of self-preservation and the curiosity over what Wood could have planned for him, Marcus hesitated.

The night before had been… different. They had met, as they usually did before a big match, to drink and place stupid bets on things. It had become a tradition over the years, one that Marcus found himself enjoying more and more. Getting pissed with a friend was a good way to relax after a long week; always had been. Even if Marcus always ended up with a sore head and a much lighter wallet the next morning, he figured it was worth it. Things the night before, however, had taken a strange turn.

_“There’s no way Caerphilly will pull that match off tomorrow! No way!”_

_Wood leant back in his chair, his eyes bright and a lopsided grin on his face. Marcus shook his head._

_“Course they will. Cannons never win anything.”_

_“They do too. Not often, but they do win occasionally.”_

_“Against_ Caerphilly _, though? Not a chance.”_

_Wood leant forward again, placing his arms on the table between them. Marcus frowned and downed the rest of his drink. Signalling to the barkeep, he returned his attention to Wood just as he grinned._

_“Wanna bet?”_

_With the confidence that Firewhisky always lent him flooding through his veins, Marcus laughed. “If you’re in a hurry to give your money away, then sure.”_

_The barkeep deposited another bottle of Firewhisky in front of Marcus then. He fumbled in his pocket to pull out some change, his fingers clumsy._

_“Not for money,” Wood stated when Marcus had finally paid the barkeep. “I want something else.”_

_Marcus nearly inhaled his whisky. “Look at you! You’re too pissed to see straight! No way you’re getting it up tonight!”_

_“When I want to fuck you, Flint, I’ll let you know.” Wood leant back in his chair again and sat blinking at Marcus for a few seconds. “I want control.”_

Nerves shivered through Marcus once again at the memory. Just what kind of control he wanted, Wood hadn’t told him.

There was something else that had been nagging Marcus since he had woken that morning, though: Wood’s use of the word ‘when’ when he had responded to Marcus’ teasing him. ‘ _When_ I want to fuck you, Flint, I’ll let you know’, is what he had said. Or, that was what Marcus’ fuzzy brain had translated it into.

“Oi! Get in here!”

Marcus sighed. Trying again to unclench his hands – and failing – he shoved them into his pockets before making his way through to the kitchen. Light and bright, Wood had had the kitchen decorated to match the kitchens you would see in an old country house. Everything, including the small racks above the bench that held dried flowers – or whatever they were – was designed to look as though you had stepped right into an English kitchen from the nineteenth century. Wood was standing at the stove.

“What’s this?” Marcus stopped just inside the door. “You’re cooking now?”

He had to pause to take a deep breath as the scent of something part-sweet, part-sharp hit his senses. His eyes closed automatically and his lips pressed together as he breathed in slowly.

“What _is_ that?”

“Sticky toffee pudding. Molly Weasley’s recipe.”

Marcus re-opened his eyes just in time to see Wood dipping a spoon into the mixture. Breathing deeply again, Marcus could make out some kind of tea and maybe some dates as well.

“Here.”

Surprise rushed through Marcus when Wood turned the spoon towards him. Holding one hand beneath the spoon to catch anything that might drop, Wood held it up to Marcus’ lips.

“Try.”

“I…” Marcus paused, confused. “What?”

“Molly asked me to Sunday lunch with the family this weekend and wanted to know if I could try making this pudding. I have to practice, so… try.”

The spoon was pushed forward again a little, so the pudding just touched Marcus’ lips. Really, he had no choice other than to taste the sticky concoction Wood had come up with. It was either that or take a big enough step backwards that he would both look ridiculous and hit the door. The pudding tasted…

“Mmm,” Marcus sighed automatically, his eyes sliding closed once again. “ _You_ made this?”

“Oh, come on! Do you see anyone else in this kitchen?”

Marcus opened his eyes again. The taste of the pudding was still on his lips, causing him to lick them to get the stickiness off. He could have sworn he saw Wood’s eyes darken a little, but he brushed the thought aside. Taking a couple of steps forward, he placed a hand on the back of one of the chairs set around the island bench.

“Alright, so…”

“Of course, sorry! Take a seat.”

Marcus’ eyebrows drew down in confusion as Wood bustled around the kitchen. _Control_. That was what Wood had said he wanted. Control over what, though? Pulling the chair out, Marcus took a seat.

“What are you doing?”

“Well, that pudding has to bake for at least an hour, possibly an hour and a half. In the meantime, I’m going to prep something else. You can be my taste tester.”

Marcus cocked his head to the side as he watched Wood move around the kitchen. He couldn’t help narrowing his eyes and nibbling on the very tip of his tongue as he tried to work out just what was going on. Was it possible that he had imagined the bet the night before? No, that couldn’t be it. Wood would not have acknowledged it earlier in the hallway if Marcus had imagined it. So, just _what_ was going on?

“Here, try this one.”

Marcus leant back in the chair when Wood came close again, this time holding a forkful of something that smelled chocolatey. Despite the fact that the sweet scent made his mouth water, he raised a hand to prevent Wood from shoving the fork into his mouth.

“What’s going on?”

“Trust me.”

Wood moved the fork forward a little, just as he had the time before with the pudding. This time, Marcus resisted.

“No, tell me what’s going on. Why are you feeding me? Shouldn’t you be…” He shrugged. “I don’t know… making me do chores, or… walk your dog, or something else like that? You said you wanted _control_.”

Marcus was grateful when the fork was dropped from his line of sight. Wood was smiling at him with the strangest look in his eyes, though, which didn’t help his confusion.

“This _is_ control.” When Marcus frowned and huffed out a frustrated breath, Wood’s smile widened. “I get to choose for you today. What you eat, what you smell, what you touch; everything. I have complete control over your senses today.”

Marcus was silent for a few seconds, simply trying to digest what he had just heard. “My _senses_?”

“Yes.” Wood nodded matter-of-factly. “Your senses.”

“Think you’ve lost all your fucking sense,” Marcus couldn’t help muttering, earning himself a small chuckle. “I agreed to this and you want to use it to use me as a taste tester.”

Wood’s chuckle this time was deeper and richer, much more like the one that had echoed through the hallway earlier on. “Like I told you last night: if I want to _use_ you, I’ll let you know.”

Something in the back of Marcus’ mind noted the change in the wording. There was a great difference between ‘when’ and ‘if’, and it seemed that his mind had caught onto the change. Shaking his head, he resumed his normal posture, instead of leaning back to stay away from Wood and his forkful of chocolate.

“Alright then. If you want to let this opportunity go to waste, I can’t stop you.”

The chocolatey thing on the fork melted in Marcus’ mouth. His eyes closed automatically again as he savoured the flavour. As it turned out, Wood had been baking for a while in preparation for the big day on Sunday when he would apparently be cooking for the Weasleys. Why, Marcus had no idea. Surely the Weasley clan had enough children of their own who could cook?

Over the next hour or so, he was treated to some of the most delicious sweets he had tried in a long time. It was strange at first, but Marcus soon got used to allowing Wood to handfeed him. It started with spoons and forks, as he would have expected. Small pieces of pudding, or chocolate, or creams were scooped up and held out for him to try. When he attempted to take the spoon from Wood, his hand was slapped away.

“I said that _I_ wanted control. You sit there and don’t touch anything unless I tell you to.”

Something shivered down Marcus’ spine at that. Wood hadn’t exerted any of his so-called control over him up until that point. He had merely held things out and Marcus had tasted them, giving his opinion when asked. Shifting in his seat, he placed his hands flat on the bench before him.

“Much better,” Wood murmured from behind him, where he had stepped to retrieve something. “Now… Taste this.”

Leaning forward near Marcus’ shoulder, Wood’s voice sounded right next to Marcus’ ear. The sensation sent another shiver down his spine, forcing him to roll his shoulders. Wood had pitched his voice lower; whether it was due to his proximity or something else, Marcus did not know. What he did know was that the sound of Wood’s voice so close to him did… Well, the sensations that shot through him weren’t entirely unwelcome, he finished the thought in his mind.

When he glanced around, Wood was smiling at him again, a small teaspoon held in his hand. Without even breaking eye contact to see what Wood had offered him, Marcus opened his mouth and took the food from the spoon. After spending most of the morning with his senses overloaded on sweets, the savoury taste of this one had him making a strange little sound in the back of his throat.

“Good? Bad?” Wood bit down on his bottom lip, watching Marcus chew. “Indifferent?”

The meaty, flavourful taste caused his mouth to water even with the food still there. Swallowing, Marcus savoured the taste for a few seconds, licking his lips.

“Salty. And fresh. It’s a nice difference to the puddings.”

Something clanged behind him, causing him to jump. Wood swore and, before Marcus could turn fully to see what had happened, held something else out. Marcus took it automatically. The sensation of having the same meaty flavour in his mouth again was overpowered by the fact that he had just licked the tips of Wood’s fingers. They brushed over his lips briefly before being removed.

“Well?”

Wood wasn’t looking at him. In fact, he seemed to be going out of his way to not look in Marcus’ direction.

“How’s the sauce?”

Marcus bit his tongue to prevent himself from asking ‘what sauce?’ Blinking, he brushed aside any thoughts that were beginning to form in the back of his mind. The meat had been there and Marcus still, technically, had had the teaspoon. Wood had clearly dipped the meat into the sauce, then just offered it to him. Clearing his throat, he focussed on the taste in his mouth.

“Not spicy enough.”

“Spicy?” Wood stopped in his seeming attempt to travel around the kitchen at top speed to glance Marcus’ way. “You like spice?”

Marcus frowned when Wood stood on his toes to reach the dried flowers hanging from the rack above the bench. “I thought you said you weren’t going to try to make me eat anything inedible?”

It was Wood’s turn to frown. “‘Inedible’?”

Marcus waved a hand towards the flowers. “You’re reaching for your flower arrangement. I’m sure you think they look nice, but–”

He was cut off when Wood began to laugh. It took a few seconds for Wood to reach whatever he was trying to grab, but when he did, he held it up in front of Marcus.

“Ginger.” He placed a knobbly-looking thing down on the bench. “And horseradish. I know the food here in England isn’t usually served with spices, or condiments, but really, you should at least recognise these.”

Marcus scowled. “I–”

“Smell.”

His scowl deepened. “Really?”

Wood grinned. “This was part of our agreement, Flint. You lost the bet, so you now have to allow me this. Here…” He grabbed the ginger from the bench again. “Smell. You’ll like it, I promise.”

Marcus had, of course, tasted ginger before. This time, however, it seemed different somehow. When Wood leant forward slightly to offer it to him, he closed his eyes. The smell was strong; pungent. Licking his lips again instinctively, he re-opened his eyes. Wood was watching him, that same strange look to his eyes that Marcus had noticed earlier. Raising an eyebrow at him earned Marcus another smile.

“Want to taste?”

“Ginger? I’ve tried it before.”

“Crushed into a sauce, maybe. Not like this, though, I’d bet.”

Marcus watched as Wood sliced the end off the ginger, then took the thinnest of slivers off. Instead of offering the knife with the slice on it to Marcus, he held it lightly on the tip of his finger again.

“Try.”

There was something strangely intimate about taking food from someone else’s fingertip. Marcus held Wood’s eyes as he took the offered slice of ginger. Warmth spread through him as he swallowed, not just from the eye contact, but due to the spicy taste. Or, at least, that was what he told himself.

“Well?”

Marcus nearly jumped at the soft sound of Wood’s voice. He blinked a few times before recalling that Wood had given him a piece of meat as well.

“It’s… fresh. Sharp and warm.”

“You like it, then.”

It wasn’t really a question, Marcus knew, but he nodded anyway. Warmth pooled in his stomach when a smile spread across Wood’s face, crinkling his eyes.

“Brilliant. Wait here.”

_Do I really have a choice?_ Marcus wondered as Wood began to rummage in the kitchen cupboards again. The scent of a spicy sauce soon invaded Marcus’ senses, tingling through his nostrils. He took a deep breath, savouring the scent.

“Like that smell?”

Marcus hummed in response. He knew just from the scent of the sauce that it would go well with the flavourful meat Wood had offered him a few minutes before.

“Good. Try this, then.”

Again, Marcus was surprised when he managed to lick the tips of Wood’s fingers. Wood didn’t react, however, other than to pull his hand away after a second or two. Something strange went through Marcus’ chest; a tight sensation, but not unpleasant.

“Much better,” he murmured as his lips tingled with the spice. At least, he told himself it was the spice. “Tastes better with the bit of extra kick.”

Wood was silent for the next few minutes. The only sound in the kitchen was the sizzle of whatever was on the stovetop, and the occasional clang of the saucepans as Wood shuffled through them. Marcus took the time to really properly assess the situation he had found himself in.

He was being handfed by Oliver Wood, who was making everything Marcus was eating from scratch. He closed his eyes, allowing the sharp scent of the sauce to wash over him. It seemed to fill him entirely, causing his skin to tingle, and warmth to shoot through to the very ends of his fingertips. He got the feeling that he would never be able to smell ginger again without remembering the sensation of Wood’s fingers brushing against his lips. The tingle in his skin increased as he licked his lips, tracing the spot where Wood’s fingers had brushed against. He jumped when Wood cleared his throat.

“I, ah… I want to try something.”

There was definitely a nervous tone to Wood’s voice, causing Marcus to frown. He glanced over to see Wood standing a couple of steps away from him, a length of material held in one hand.

“What is that?”

“A, ah… blindfold?”

The hesitancy to Wood’s voice – causing the statement to sound much more like a question – would normally have caused Marcus to laugh. This time, however, he was much more focussed on the sharp, hot sensation that started in his chest and spread out through the rest of his body, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He sat there blinking for a few seconds before his mind registered that he would have to respond.

“A blindfold.”

“Yeah.” Wood shrugged awkwardly. “I want you to try something, well a couple of somethings, and tell me which you prefer. One is homemade and the other is store-bought. If you can’t tell the difference, then I’m going to stick with the homemade one.”

Marcus blinked a few more times. Technically, by the terms of the bet the night before, he had no choice. He had to allow Wood to blindfold him if that was what he wanted. Letting out a slow breath, he nodded.

“Alright, then.”

The look that lit up Wood’s face had Marcus struggling not to smile. Seeing the combined shock and relief on Wood was surprisingly pleasing.

The black material of the blindfold was soft, almost silky. It slid on over his eyes softly and Marcus could feel slight tugs as Wood fastened it behind his head, being careful not to pull any of his hair out. His fingers automatically stretched out and his mouth opened, apparently in anticipation.

“How’s that?”

Wood’s voice was deep and warm, coming from just behind Marcus’ right ear. A strong shiver went down his spine. Marcus had to clear his throat before he could respond.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s good. It’s good.”

“Perfect.”

Marcus shivered again. Not just down his spine this time, but a full-body shiver that left more goosebumps in its wake. His heart began to thud against his ribcage as Wood made him wait a little longer.

“Alright.” Wood was back behind him again, his voice pitched low. “Here we go. Try this one first.”

Marcus was expecting the fingers this time. They pressed lightly against his lips, holding what smelled like some kind of sticky, savoury treat. He opened his lips part-way, testing to see what Wood would do. The fingers pressed slightly inside his mouth, depositing the sweet before pulling out again. They brushed against his lips, lingering for a few seconds to spread the taste of the sticky syrup over them. Marcus’s tongue flicked out, following them more than licking the syrup from his lips. A slightly shaky breath from behind him caused tension to tighten his shoulders.

“What do you think?”

Wood’s voice was now low enough that he may as well have been whispering straight into Marcus’ ear. Focussing on the sweet in his mouth proved a little difficult when he knew that Wood was standing _right there_ behind him. He chewed for a few seconds, trying to force his mind to recognise that there was something in his mouth.

“Sweet.” His own voice was rough, but he found he couldn’t care. “Sort of peanut-y?”

“Very good. Alright, then…”

Marcus’ mouth re-opened the second he swallowed, but he knew it was not from waiting to be fed the next piece of food. The combination of the sweet in his mouth, the scent of the ginger sauce still in the air, and Wood’s deep voice just behind him was having an effect on his body; an effect he had not expected. When Wood spoke next, a shot of desire pooled in Marcus’ stomach, then went straight south. He let out a small gasp as his entire body tingled.

“Now this one.”

Acting completely on autopilot, Marcus took Wood’s fingers into his mouth and gave them a slight suck as he was offered the next piece. Wood made a strange sound, but left his fingers there. Swirling his tongue, Marcus drew the fingers further into his mouth, enjoying the sensation a little too much. When he closed his lips around them, Wood let out a shaky breath.

“Marcus…”

His name was whispered right by his right ear, sending yet another shiver straight through him. He knew that if he just turned his head, they would be close enough so he could taste Wood’s lips instead of his fingers, but he stayed still. If Wood wanted control, then Marcus found he was more than willing to give it.

“You like this?”

Marcus tilted his head back, trying to entice Wood into moving his fingers deeper. “Mmm.”

It was all he could manage with a mouthful of sweet and fingers. Leaning back in the chair, Marcus allowed his shoulder to brush against Wood’s chest. He sucked a little harder on the fingers in his mouth, coating them with the sticky syrup before sucking it off again. The scent of the ginger flowed around them, and the only sound was Wood’s now definitely shaky breathing. It took Wood a few minutes to recover, but when he found his voice again, it sent shocks of want straight through Marcus.

“Do you suck everything that well?”

Before he could react, Marcus felt Wood’s free hand on one of his wrists. It drew his arm backwards, securing his wrist there with a mild Sticking Charm. Marcus freely offered his other hand when Wood reached for it.

“Very good,” Wood whispered in Marcus’ ear. “No touching until you’re told.”

The fingers being removed from his mouth caused Marcus to let out a sound of protest. It didn’t last long, however, as the sensation of light touches being brushed over his chest and shoulders soon caught his attention. Wood kept his touch light, merely ghosting his fingertips over Marcus’ chest, and the exposed skin of his neck. It caused the hairs to stand up on the back of Marcus’ neck and his forearms.

“Wood…”

“Oliver.”

“Mmm.” Marcus bit down on his bottom lip when Wood’s fingers slipped lower. “Oliver…”

“Do you want to touch me?” Wood asked a few seconds later.

Marcus’ heart thudded fast enough against his ribs at that that he was surprised Wood couldn’t hear it. He tried turning towards the sound of the voice, but Wood prevented him, his hand gripping Marcus’ hair gently.

“Ah, not until you’re told.”

Marcus groaned. The loss of one of Wood’s hands spreading tingles over his skin with those light touches caused him to shift in his chair, tempted to try to move closer.

“Yes.”

The rough sound of Marcus’ voice seemed to amuse Wood. He was laughing when he responded: “Good, good. Not yet, but that’s _very_ good.”

The hands both left Marcus’ body at the same time. He would have let out another sound of protest, but they returned soon after, gripping his hips. He had little time to process just what was happening before Wood’s mouth was over his denim-clad cock, huffing and sucking on the material. Wood’s laugh vibrated straight to his core when he moaned and bucked his hips.

With the blindfold still on, it was difficult to tell just what was going to happen next, but Marcus had reached the point where he didn’t care. His head rolled back against the back of the chair as Wood mouthed over his cock.

“Please, please…”

He rolled his hips, trying to get more stimulation. He knew he couldn’t come from this, but _damn_ if he wasn’t enjoying it!

“Oliver…”

“Do you want to touch me?”

This time, the question was much rougher. Wood’s Scottish brogue had thickened in the few minutes since things had taken such a dramatic turn between them. Biting down on his bottom lip again, Marcus nodded.

“Can’t hear you.”

The vibrations as Wood spoke were only making Marcus’ position more difficult. “ _Fuck_ … Yes, yes…”

The charm to release his hand from the Sticking Charm was muttered against him again. Marcus wasted no time, but attempted to grasp Wood’s hair in both hands. His wrists being grabbed caused him to let out a sound close to a growl.

“Not my hair that needs touching.”

Marcus hadn’t done this in the dark for a long time, let alone blindfolded. He fumbled with the zipper of Wood’s jeans, the teeth of the zipper scraping against his fingertips. The hardness of Wood’s cock beneath the denim didn’t help. Neither did the fact that Wood continued to speak, sending tiny, sharp jabs of desire straight through Marcus and distracting him from his task.

“Wanna be fucked…” Marcus was unsure if this was a question or a request, but he grunted anyway. “Wanna feel your hands on me… taste you… feel you…”

It was all whispered in Marcus’ ear as Wood leant close, his hands placed on either side of the back of the chair. When Marcus finally freed him from his jeans, he sat down, straddling one of Marcus’ thighs.

“Touch me.”

It was a command if Marcus had ever heard one. Wood’s skin was hot and silky as he moved his hand along his length, aided by some magically-conjured lube. Wood rocked in his lap, not enough to disrupt Marcus’ rhythm, but just enough to rub his thigh against the erection pressing against Marcus’ own jeans.

“Yes, yes…”

The scent of the ginger sauce was still tingling Marcus’ nose. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly automatically, not caring that it made no difference with the blindfold on. His pace quickened when Wood began to moan with each breath, giving up on speaking coherently.

“Gods… Mmm… Just – just there… I… I…”

When Wood came, it was with a half-scream, half-moan. Marcus could feel his release coating the front of his t-shirt, soaking through the thin material. Throwing his head back, he thrust his hips upwards, trying to ask for what he needed without words. Wood obliged.

“I’ve got you.”

The sensation of having his achingly hard cock squeezed through his jeans caused Marcus to buck and groan. He thrust into Wood’s hand, moving in such a way that Wood’s hand rubbed against him as he squeezed. It wasn’t long before the coiling tension in his lower back released.

“Gods, Merlin… _fucking hell_ …”

Wood collapsed down onto him the second his orgasm released him, allowing him to sag back into the chair. With his sight still gone, all he could really do was feel to see just where Wood was. Running his heavy-feeling hands along Wood’s back caused him to stretch against Marcus’ chest. Marcus smiled.

“Never had a meal like that before.”

Wood chuckled. “Much more where that came from, if you want.”

Flexing his fingers on Wood’s back, Marcus sighed. If this was Wood’s version of having control over him, he would take as much of it as he could get.


End file.
